I Don’t Want to Be Choosy

Some of the men's part of the deodorant
aisle in my local supermarket.

My husband asked me to get him some deodorant at the grocery store. He said he liked the kind he had.

But when I got to the store – and to the entire aisle devoted to deodorant – I couldn’t find that kind.

I texted him, “So, what do you want in a deodorant?”

And since that seemed kind of nutty, I texted him a picture of the ridiculous wall of choices I was facing.

Did he want it to be a deodorant, an antiperspirant or both? A solid, a gel, a roll-on? Did he want to smell sporty or “shower fresh” or like a spring rain or like Old Spice? Did he want to go cheap or expensive?

I don’t want to think this hard about every item I throw in my shopping cart.

Nor do I want to contemplate all the little cryptic symbols on my camera when I take a picture. The camera came with not one, but two, books and also a “quick start” guide, just to explain those symbols. Guess what? I don’t use any of them.

That used to be the beauty of Apple products and also of a little video camera, the Flip, I bought for my kids several years ago. Someone (else) thought about what you might actually use and provided just that. The Flip has one big red button on it to push when you want to record.

I once interviewed a retailing expert about wine. Would you rather go online, he said, where you can get any wine ever made, and try to find your way, or would you rather go to a wine shop, where the selection has been “curated” for you?

The expert said the pendulum was swinging back, to less choice but more thoughtful choice.

OK by me.